No, that's not the way
One should compose a poem!
If everybody understands
What's great about it?
...
Green, most often!
Red and biege, other times!
Colourful and colourless,
Camouflage or something,
...
' Dear, Shall we buy a Saree today? '
'No, I do not need at all! I have too many! '
'Darling! You aren't as interested as earlier! '
'May be! One can't bethe same forever! '
...
Colours and colours, everywhere!
To spread, sprinkle and spray
Across the faces and upon the clothes!
Chasing or being chased is just for fun!
...
What is there,
In that remote village?
Where buses and trains
Never run in your life!
...
We are men.
We don't know how and what women look for in men!
But we know much about ourselves.
We look at women as lumps of flesh
...
I know the pain in your eyes
Though my eyes are fixed on your flawless skin
I also know what made you do such things!
Fake emotions in your face
...
Winter this year,
Is truly severe!
In the chilly morning,
even tooth paste
...
They are peculiar stuff
They don't seem to live in the present
Nor do they belong to the past for sure
Their world is different and timeless
...
A bright butterfly
landed on a colourful flower
to suck its nectar!
The feeble stem of the flower
...
I coughed endlessly
for two nights and three days
till my belly muscles ached
I didn't sleep and neither
...
Where was the monster hiding then?
To raise its head now and threaten!
It's there, here and everywhere on the sphere
To hide you safe, no such place is there!
...
A dragon fly, in dazzling lamp light, lost its way
And landed on our window curtain straightaway!
The poor insect, flapping its flimsy wings, writhed in pain!
My frantic efforts to help the creature went in vain!
...
Memories are velvety like roses,
They pierce the lonely hearts!
They walk silentlylike dreams in the winter,
And trample you under their cold feet!
...
A bright shirt
in flowery print
flutters desperate
in the morning wind!
...
The world is bright and colourful,
Only if, you are cheerful!
The world is dark and bad,
If, you find yourself sad!
...
Did MA (English) in 1981 from O U. Married to Madhavi in 1982. I have a son and a daughter. Published a book of short stories in Telugu, my mother tongue. I want to become a writer in English.)
The Poetic Art
No, that's not the way
One should compose a poem!
If everybody understands
What's great about it?
Who bothers to read and recommend?
Change the order of the words madly,
Use words you don't know the meaning
Let the imagery be irrelevant!
Revise, revise and revise
Until the verse becomes
Unintelligible to yourself!
And then see!
The world stands there with flowers in its hands
To praise and felicitate you!
Though, in privacy, they scratch their heads to know
What your lines really mean!
Poets are a different lot. They write something and mean something.